


undertales

by jigglyghostbutts



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:52:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jigglyghostbutts/pseuds/jigglyghostbutts
Summary: a collection of short stuff I've written for prompts.a lot are Sans/Reader, but not all of them are.





	1. Sides (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I'm not dead. just been dealing w/ a lot of stuff.  
> I obviously think of Reader as male, but most of these can be read as gender neutral.  
> I can't post a lot of these because they directly mention stuff from the long fic which is a bummer. maybe I'll add them after stuff comes up.
> 
> this wasn't a prompt, but I have to write every idea that pops in my head, I guess.

One of the things Sans loves about the surface is how many new condiments there are for him to try. (And sometimes they’re not even specifically condiments - like that one time you found him on your couch eating from your peanut butter jar with a spoon.) If you go to a fast food place with him, he’ll more than likely end up with packets of stuff shoved into his pockets. Which is perfectly fine, unless he forgets about them and you find them in the laundry. (Which is often.)

And sometimes he'll just reach over and help himself to something from your plate, and (after a brief flash of magic) he'll try it. You can't even really bring yourself to be annoyed, since you always look forward to his reactions. Though those reactions are generally just a variation of “not bad.” You don’t think that he’s found anything that he dislikes yet. Or, nothing that he’s commented negatively about, at any rate.

You can’t wait to see what happens when he finally hates the taste of something.

  
  
And you get your wish when you “accidentally forget” to tell Sans that wasabi is best when you _don’t_ try to eat half the container at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take requests and prompts. they help me out a lot, actually. you could either shoot me an ask [on my blog](http://jigglyghostbutts.tumblr.com/asks) or here in the comments, if you want.


	2. Butterscotch (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Toriel.

You step through a doorway and see a big rock on the ground next to a pressure plate.

Okay. You’ve trained your entire gaming life for this moment. Your first actual, real life “push or pull the thing” puzzle. As you start to walk toward it, the phone in your pocket rings loudly and you nearly jump out of your skin. You grab and fumble with it until you’re able to answer.

“Hello?” You’re still a bit frazzled. It might be an ancient cell phone, but since it’s not an old Nokia, it would probably still break if you dropped it on a floor made of solid rock.

“Hello! This is Toriel.” Who else would it be??

“Hi, Toriel,” you say while you lean against the wall.

“For no reason in particular…” Okay, yeah, it’s for a particular reason, then. “Do you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch?”

That’s an easy question.

“Butterscotch.”

“I see! Thank you very much!” She hangs up before you can say goodbye.

You take maybe two steps before the phone rings again. Really? Is this how it’s going to be? Maybe she’s repaying you for calling her to say “hello” five different times.

“Hello?”

“Hello, my child! You do not _dislike_ cinnamon, do you?” Just as you open your mouth to answer, she continues, “I know your preference, but… Would you turn up your nose if you found it on your plate?”

“Toriel, I—”

“Right, right. I understand. Thank you for being patient with me, by the way.” She hangs up. You wish she would also be patient _with you._ You have a sneaking suspicion that it doesn’t matter what you said, since whatever she’s making has already been prepared.

You sigh.

How are you going to break it to her that you’re allergic to cinnamon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt was "allergies"


	3. Storms (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Papyrus experience a thunderstorm for the first time.

When the monsters came up from the Underground, the area was going through a particularly long dry spell. It’d rained a few times since then, but there hadn’t been any actual stormy weather. So the first time a thunderstorm _does_ show up, you’re surprised (but not surprised at the same time) when you look up from your phone to find two skeletons suddenly standing in your living room.

“WHAT’S GOING ON???” Papyrus pleads more than demands. He’s obviously trying his hardest not to sound or appear scared, but his knees are shaking. Sans, while better at masking that sort of thing, is sweating and looking to the window nervously.

“It’s just a storm, guys. It’s nothing to worry about.” You stand up from your place on the sofa only to motion for them to sit beside you.

Papyrus picks up his brother under one arm and practically runs over to you so they can both sit down. He then drops Sans on the other end of the couch and pulls you to settle in between them.

“IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE SO—” Papyrus gets interrupted by another crack and roll of thunder, which makes both the brothers visibly flinch. After a pause, he continues, “SO LOUD?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” You grab Papyrus’ hand to hold between yours and feel Sans lean on your arm. This is actually kind of cute; you’re just sad that it’s so upsetting for them.

“The sound is from the lightning hitting the ground.” You take back your hands so you can smack your palm with your fist, as if to somehow help illustrate it. “I, uh… I _think_ it happens when the clouds have a negative charge and the ground has a positive one.” Or is it the other way around?

This explanation seems to be enough to relax Sans, slightly. Not for Papyrus, though.

“I’M NOT SURE WHAT THAT MEANS.”

“like static, bro.”

“OH!” The relief in his voice is almost palpable. “THAT’S NOT SO BAD, I GUESS.”

Through the window, you all see a huge fork of lightning that strikes very much nearby and the lights go out. The sound that comes a split-second later is enough to rattle the walls.

“WELL… IT’S _KIND OF_ BAD,” Papyrus admits, pulling you closer and into his lap like some kind of human security blanket. Sans falls onto his side on the cushions before shuffling close to you again.

“Uh…” You shift around awkwardly since Papyrus doesn’t have the most comfortable legs to sit on, like, _at all._ “Just… Just stay inside when it happens, and you’ll be fine, I promise.”

There’s a long pause.

“WHAT DO YOU USUALLY DO IN SITUATIONS WITHOUT ELECTRICITY?”

“Go to sleep.” You shrug and know that they both feel the motion.

“that’s perfect,” Sans says without missing a beat.

You can practically hear Papyrus rolling his eyes at the both of you, but it turns out that he doesn’t have any better ideas.

Trying to get comfortable on the couch with two other people is never an easy thing to do, but you eventually manage. Everyone moves around until you become the middle of a skeleton sandwich. After an hour or so of talking about nothing in particular, all three of you end up drifting to sleep.


	4. Comfort (Sans/Reader)

Sans likes to sleep with his head on your chest, normally while lying nearly on top of you. He’s light enough that the weight of him doesn’t bother you, but it does make you curious about why he’s so fixated.

It isn’t until one lazy day when you watch as he settles against you that you realize that he purposely puts his head on your breastbone, like he’s listening for something. Your breathing? Your heartbeat?

Maybe it’s like white noise.

Or like reassurance.


	5. Travel (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take Sans to the beach.

You wish you’d had time to travel to the coast sooner, but between monsters generally settling in and the related political mayhem their surfacing caused, it just couldn’t happen. So here you are on the beach in midwinter, and it’s as dreary as you’d expected it to be. The sky is as steely as the rough waters crashing against the shore, and the cold coastal breeze begins to numb your nose and cheeks. You suppress a shudder, shoving your hands into your pockets and rocking back onto your heels, your weight making them sink into the sand.

You turn to Sans, about to make a joke about how _of course_ the weather would get all gloomy as soon as you both show up, but stop when you see him staring at the water, his shoulders lax and smile absently askew. Your smile softens along with your voice.

“It’s a lot, huh?”

“i’ve never seen this much water in one place before,” he agrees. He doesn’t turn to look at you when he speaks, his eyes staying fixed on the horizon.

There’s a short silence where you just watch him watch the ocean.

“it looks like it goes on forever.”


	6. Breakfast in Bed (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to change Papyrus' mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans isn't actually in this one. Neither is exact dialogue from Reader.

You try to dissuade Papyrus from it at first, but, like in most things, it’s almost impossible to make him stop when he’s got his mind set on doing something. And he has that annoying habit of making you feel guilty for not indulging him. _Why is such a bad thing, anyway? Don’t be so silly. This is the type of thing that friends do for each other, especially when one has been working so hard._ Ugh.

“PLUS, HOW ELSE WILL YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BETTER MY COOKING HAS GOTTEN?”

Well, you can’t exactly argue with him there… except that you totally can. Papyrus could just make you _lunch_ or something.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS! YOU’D HAVE TO COME HOME AND GET BACK IN BED FOR THAT.”

Yes, but doing that would also grant the bonus of Papyrus _not_ butting in awkwardly on you and Sans in the morning.

“BUT SANS LOVES SEEING ME???”

You have explain it in a way that’s _just short_ of spelling it out for him.

“OKAY, OKAY, STOP I GET IT!”

You try your best not to laugh at his expression, caught somewhere between being grossed out and pleased that the two of you are getting along so well.

“AND MAYBE I CAN _NOT_ BE THE WORLD’S MOST AMAZING FRIEND. BUT JUST THIS _ONE_ TIME!!”


	7. Anger (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus' POV for a change. Sans/Reader is very briefly mentioned, but it's not the focus at all.

 Papyrus isn’t sure what he thinks of humanity as a whole, really. They’re very confusing. He realizes that they can feel a lot of emotions at once, like any monster can, but some of them are toxic things, _violent_ things, _alien things_ that he just can’t wrap his head around. Why would someone do a violence on purpose? Papyrus might not understand it, but he keeps this all in mind when he mingles with humans, especially strangers.

 _Especially_ especially around the strangers that like to come up and bother him a lot when he’s outside. They bother him even more anytime you’re out with him. They say rude things, but he only feels sorry for them; you feel sorry for them, too, judging by the expression you get.

Apparently this trip to the park is one of those times _this time,_ too.

Papyrus carries Flowey, flower pot and all, in his arms. He chats cheerily with the both of you about pretty much everything that passes through his mind while you lead the way ahead of them. You suddenly stop walking, though, and it’s only then that Papyrus notices a small group of humans standing on the sidewalk, impeding your path and talking loudly amongst themselves. He must have accidentally tuned out their approach, somehow.

“HELLO, FRIENDS,” Papyrus greets them, like he usually does with everyone. This surprises the humans and they go quiet, but the one in the middle ends up looking offended. Darn, was he being too familiar?

“Yeah, hi, friends,” you say, smile tight on your face.

Instead of a greeting, the guy in the middle’s response is an upsettingly familiar song and dance about your reasons for freeing everyone from the Underground, with some name-calling thrown in for good measure. Papyrus is about to explain him a thing when the man decides to make a very insulting insinuation of your relationship with both Sans and Papyrus.

It looks like you brush it off, though, because you turn to Papyrus, gesturing vaguely to the offending human with your thumb, laughing slightly, like you’re about to share a joke.

“Haha, did you hear what he just—” Quick as lightning, you spin back to the man and slam your fist right into his face.

Papyrus is absolutely stunned. Flowey is cackling.

The human reels and grabs at his nose, blood blossoming from between his fingers, the others shouting at you even as they catch the first guy when he stumbles backward. You’re shouting obscenities right back at them, shaking out your hand like you’d injured yourself.

It looks like a retaliation is about to take place, and Papyrus tenses up for the inevitable, but a show of magic from Flowey is enough to get them stumbling away from the three of you in terror. They bolt down the sidewalk while trying not to trip over each other.

Now safe from confrontation, Papyrus turns his attention back to you.

“We really shouldn’t go anywhere without a bigger group,” you mumble. With the other humans gone, you look like you’re lost, clutching your hand to your side - the blood on your knuckles might actually belong to you, he realizes.

Papyrus has never seen you act like that before, his memories all focusing on how cheerful and patient you are with everyone. Angry sometimes, sure, but it’s always mixed with something else that overpowers it, like concern or hurt - never with the desire to explicitly injure anyone. He wonders if you lashed out because they mentioned him.

You turn back around to Papyrus and Flowey, suggesting that maybe you could visit the park some other day, ushering them back the way you came with a very forced, but cheerful and worried smile on your face. Flowey says something to you that Papyrus doesn’t quite register and you laugh brightly, making sure to keep beside them as you walk.

How did it become so easy for him to forget that you’re human, too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wait until passersby post that shit to social media. Sans would probably hear about it from, like, Alphys or someone before they even get back home.


	8. Aftermath (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a comment inspired me to write about Sans' reaction.  
> again, their relationship isn't really the focus so I didn't mark it as such.

“really?” That’s the greeting you get as soon as you close the front door. Sans doesn’t sound angry or disappointed, but when does he ever?

“That was fast,” you remark, brushing past him and into the sitting room where you slump down into the couch. You’ve been fretting over your stupid episode since it happened. Simply saying that you berated yourself the entire way after walking Papyrus home would be putting it lightly; you’ve been giving yourself a veritable smackdown while low-key trying not to panic. You want to curl up and die, but that’s not an option right now.

“alphys texted me.”

“Figured,” you say through a sigh. When she’s not working (and even when she should be working), she’s the queen of queen of social media. Between her and others who keep close tabs on that sort of thing, it’s no real surprise that Sans found out so quickly. It also explains your phone blowing up on the way back. You’d ignored it at the time, but now you know you have a lot of texts to read.

“you know you set back more people than just yourself here, right?” Sans asks from over your shoulder. He forms it like a question out of courtesy; he's fully aware that you know that and just wants you to think about it. He leans over the back of the seat, head tilted to see your face.

He’s completely right, of course. _(Like usual.)_ It definitely hasn’t been easy for monsters so far, and it’s only going to be that much harder now. One step forward, ten steps back. You just wish he weren’t so _relaxed_ about it. You’d at the very least appreciate it if he’d not be passive-aggressive about arguing with you. That shit’s annoying.

“and, i mean, i love papyrus, too, but that’s a little over the top, dontcha think?” It’s left unspoken, but you know what he means by bringing that up. All Papyrus had to do was be present in that one moment for bad light to be shed on him, too.

“I’m sorry,” you say, all too aware of how hollow and inadequate your apology is in the grand scale of things. “I was mad.” That dude—that _random nobody_ —just happened to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back; you just wish you’d kept a level head. “I overreacted.”

“yeah, i saw that.”

You twist to the side to stare at him.

“Well, what do you _want_ me to say?”

He shrugs.

“doesn’t matter.” Sans flops beside you on the couch. “i ain’t the one you should be apologizin’ to.”

“I’m not apologizing to that guy,” you say resolutely and with a frown.

“no, don’t bother.” He leans against you and clicks on the TV. “that guy’s an asshole.”

He seems content with leaving it at that and the ensuing quiet isn't oppressive like you thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Looking at your texts later, you see that Undyne is very happy with how you handled yourself out there._
> 
> it's not really an argument, but Sans doesn't like to be confrontational. I figure that as long as you know what you did was stupid and you're actually sorry, then it's fine.


	9. Karaoke (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AKA Sans Experiences a Feeling)  
> Humans and monsters express emotions differently and Sans realizes the effects of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is something I really enjoyed exploring. starts as reader's POV, but switches to Sans' POV shortly after.  
> probably would take place a year or two after the monsters leave the Underground.  
> it started as me trying to puzzle out how Sans would deal with jealousy, but turned into something else at the end and I like that part better than the rest. oh well.

Singing karaoke with Mettaton is just as fun as you had imagined it would be. Which is to say, it’s super fucking fun and you wonder why you haven’t done it before now.

MTT is so outrageously kind to you (but, he’s kind to any of his fans, really). He gives you supportive looks and smiles as you sing with him. It does wonders for self-confidence you might have been lacking at the prospect of singing in front of a building packed full of strangers.

Well, almost full of strangers. There are quite a few people that you’re very good friends with. A skeleton and a little yellow lizard stand out among them. Sans looks extremely bored - or something like it, at least. You feel bad about that, but at the same time you’re having fun… and maybe you’re also the tiniest bit drunk.

 

* * *

 

Sans is annoyed.

It’s not very often that he gets annoyed, if he says so himself, but this is an exception.

He huffs out a breath through his strained smile, leaning his cheek on one hand to prop himself up on the table he and Alphys are sitting at. This catches her attention.

“I h-hope Undyne doesn’t tr-try to sing anything.”

“yeah.” Sans doesn’t even move to look at her as he replies. There’s another pause. Alphys probably wasn’t expecting him to be so disinterested, but she continues on anyway.

“I-I’m still glad th-that ___ and Mettaton are g-getting along.” This causes him to glance over to her. “I thought that th-they might not recover fr-from all the fighting they did back in the Underground.”

“yeah. good thing they made up, huh?” Sans says, tone edging the tiniest bit from casual toward sarcastic. Alphys probably catches what’s going on at this point, because she doesn’t try to continue conversation. He can’t blame her.

Sans knows that he shouldn’t be upset over something stupid like this, especially since you’re generally free with your affections, but here it is. There’s no denying it. (Well, he could continue to deny it, but it’s a bit too late at this point.)

You and Mettaton have made a duet out of a song, and are working almost perfectly together up on the small stage - making grand gestures for emphasis of certain lyrics and at times circling around each other. (At least the mics are wireless, he muses.) There’s also what could be considered meaningful looks that you and MTT keep on throwing each other, but that’s not really the case. They’re just for show.

Probably.

…

Ughhh, why is he getting jealous over something like this? Sans never gets jealous. He never gets much of _anything,_ actually. Having feelings is something he never really missed much, but then suddenly you showed up in his life with your… your _everything_ and he slowly - very slowly -  started feeling. Feeling these emotions that _seem_ new because of how unused to them he is. He hadn’t needed to experience them during the hell that was almost 700 loops of the same damn week (if not more), so he’d almost forgotten what they’d felt like.

Sans isn’t sure if he’s more annoyed at you for doing it, or at himself for letting it happen in the first place. So he just settles with being very slightly upset with everything.

When the song is over, you come rushing back to the table with a beaming smile on your face and a drink in your hand. Sans pushes the empty chair beside him out for you, and you practically slam yourself into the seat. Your drink threatens to slosh over the side, but thankfully never does.

“Thanks, dude,” you say almost offhandedly in a way that Sans recognizes is a reflex. A note of laughter makes its way into your voice when you continue on, “But, _holy shit,_ guys! That was almost as exhilarating as dancing on TV.”

“I’ll-I’ll bet!” Alphys agrees, looking excited. “I c-can’t imagine what it’s like performing l-like that.”

“Alph, you’d be amazing up there,” you say earnestly, placing a hand on her arm. Alphys gets flustered at this and starts to explain that there’s no way she would ever go up there and how not even Undyne has managed to get her to sing in front of anyone before.

Sans closes his eyes, still leaning on his hand. He hears an empty glass hit the table right before the thundering sounds of Undyne’s boots reach your seat.

“HEY, BRAT! I hope you’re not done yet!” Undyne yells at you and he can practically hear the huge grin on her face. She slams more drinks onto the table. “BECAUSE I BROUGHT MORE!!”

“Hell yeah!”

Sans hopes that you’re not a weepy drunk like some humans here seem to be or an angry one like Toriel. After a few drinks, when he feels you wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your cheek against the top of his head, he knows that, no, you’re not either of those - you’re one of the clingy kinds. Sans isn’t too big on PDA, but he isn’t about to shove you away from him, either, and that may or may not be because he wants to feel like his earlier bout of jealousy is unfounded.

“Sorry you got bored,” you say, voice quiet now that Undyne’s there to drown out your conversation with her own animated talking. You try to look down at his face while still leaning on his head, so Sans shifts to where he’s not pressed into your neck so much. He shrugs.

“i ain’t bored, kid.”

“Mmmhmm.” It’s obvious that you don’t believe him.

 

“You know I love you, right?”

Sans freezes in place.

You almost stumble backwards onto the sidewalk because your support isn’t moving with you anymore.

“Whoa, what?” you ask yourself, startled and confused while you regain your balance. You laugh a bit when you realize what happened.

Meanwhile, Sans is quietly trying not to panic. That phrase is really important for humans, isn’t it? It’s always this huge deal in movies, books, songs, and pretty much anything in human culture he’s come across so far. Someone has to fall in love and confess, even if it ruins the pacing of everything else.

But he’d never really thought much about you saying it to anyone, let alone to him, and that’s mainly because he can feel it in every touch you give him; he doesn’t need to hear it. This is because you’re drunk, right? Lowers inhibitions and all that? Do you expect him to _say it back,_ or something? Because he doesn’t want to have to say he loves you. That goes arm-in-arm with some sort of concrete commitment (and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for that). But, Sans also doesn’t want to say it because he doesn’t think he _needs_ to say it.

Then Sans suddenly remembers that 1) you’re not a monster who can innately sense the emotions and intentions woven into someone’s actions and that 2) he’s pretty much the actual worst at expressing it any other way. Any touches Sans gives you probably feel the same as anyone's that you're close to would in those situations, and that’s a startling thought. You don’t know at all, do you? You probably guess that he does, but this is proof that you aren’t sure.

A car’s tires screech across the asphalt somewhere in the distance, slicing right through the silence of the streets and bringing Sans back to the present with a start. It’s so late that there aren’t many people around to gawk at the pair of you, thankfully.

“Uh, I know I’m drunk,” you start, having been watching Sans’ internal debate for a moment. He can practically see the gears in your head trying to turn while you work through this. “I mean…” Your voice gets less lazy the more you talk, like you’re trying to force yourself to become sober. “I get it, man. You don’t have to say anything.” There’s a pause. “I… I probably didn’t even mean to say it in the first place, hah… Sorry.”

Well, now he feels like a complete dick, but he still doesn’t know what to say to you.

So he doesn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he might realize the effects of it, but that doesn't mean he'll do anything about it.
> 
> oh, hey. happy Valentine's day.


	10. Depression (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to understand when it can't apply to him, but Sans tries anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this around a year ago. it was basically supposed to be therapeutic writing bc of real life circumstances, but I don’t actually cover those circumstances in this story lol whoops  
> 

Just because your life is good doesn’t mean your depression will wondrously disappear. The monumental tasks you’ve accomplished, the people you’ve met, the guy who’s become one of the few best friends you’ve ever had… These things certainly help your self-confidence, but it doesn’t “fix” you. There’s nothing to  _be fixed._ It’s just how you are. It’s how things will always be, and you’ll manage like you always have in the past.

You let Sans know this upfront rather quickly. To some people, the matter-of-fact way you talk about your own illness and its related shortcomings might be off-putting, but he likes how honest you are about it. He even thinks he gets what you mean by all of these things.

Well, abstractly, at least, because monsters don’t have anything quite like human neurodivergence. They’d need a nervous system for that - all the chemical reactions and hormones and whatever else that would entail (he’s not all that into biology, and he’s even less into human biology). Positive emotions, and having hope - that’s really all it takes for a monster to be mentally healthy. Sans supposes that compared to others, his case would be (or would have been?) the closest thing to what depression is for humans. Maybe you know that and that’s why you find it so easy to explain and talk to him about it. The times you do that make it feel like he understands all of it.

But when Sans sees episodes of it for real - not just explained by you - he realizes that he doesn’t truly understand your situation at all and probably never will. And while he’d never admit to it, it pains him to be unable to help you the way you’ve unwittingly helped him. (Even if he did tell you that, would it actually help you or just make you hurt even more?)

 

A desperate need of comfort shocks through Sans’ system and wakes him up one night only for him to find you clinging to him. He can’t exactly move much like this, but he looks around with his eyes, at least. Nothing’s out of place - just you. He can feel your wracking sobs through your chest. He can’t hear anything other than your uneven breathing, though, so he has a feeling that you know you woke him up and you’re trying to save face.

Sans tilts his head up to look at you and at the same time he moves, you turn to face away from him, shaking your head, your free hand pressed to your mouth. He isn’t sure if he should ask about it, but he’d be lying if he pretended he isn’t worried because he’s really fucking worried.

So, to hell with it. He eases himself out of your grasp to sit up and asks anyway.

“what’s up?”

It takes you a moment to gather yourself - sniffling and trying to swallow around nothing to get your throat working again.

“It’s nothing.” You’re not looking at Sans while you talk, your eyes staring unfocused at a place somewhere over his shoulder and near the door.

“it doesn’t look—”

“I don’t know why,” you say loudly, obviously biting back more tears. He recognizes guilt in your expression, your voice lowering again. “This isn’t usually something I do, even when it gets bad. I’m sorry.”

You sigh deeply. You sound more exhausted, more fed up than he’s ever heard before.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

That sounds like you’re apologizing for something else entirely. Not all of it’s being said, obviously, but Sans thinks he can gather what you mean from things you’ve said in the past.

“you don’t have to apologize for existing, kid.”

Yeah, that hit the nail on the head. You almost visibly flinch at his words, and Sans belatedly realizes that he doesn’t know how you’re going to react to him exposing something like that while you're this vulnerable.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence, but it’s broken when you laugh shakily and wrap your arms back around him again, less strained, less nervous this time.

“Thanks.”

He knows you don’t actually believe him and it hurts.


End file.
